


your majesties, this is a council meeting

by JoeyTheMusician



Series: the camelot [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Crack Treated Seriously, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff and Humor, M/M, they're married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28356987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoeyTheMusician/pseuds/JoeyTheMusician
Summary: what life is like for the newlyweds... crack but the rich people kind,makes more sense if you read the first story, but I guess could be read as a stand-alone?
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: the camelot [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2076684
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	your majesties, this is a council meeting

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote more... i am sorry. this semester my essays were so bad... but my TA was like "I love your wit and rhetoric, I laughed while marking these!" and I'm like... yeah I can make evolutionary biology funny
> 
> I think the world deserved more married merthur so here ya go, happy holidays!

“It is _illegal_ to lie to your king, Merlin!”

A flustered King Arthur stood up; huffing, he pushed his palms into the wooden table. His hair was a mess, an afterthought of a late morning. He blew on his bangs in an attempt to get them out of his face. His glare was pointed at none other than his doting husband, an equally irate sorcerer, who had also had too little sleep and too little time to get dressed.

His aforementioned doting husband, Merlin, crossed his arms, puffing up his chest. Many years ago, one may have been fooled into thinking him a twink. Now, he had developed into a fit young man- and Arthur’s eyes were twitching with the instinct to admire the swell of his chest- or his neck, which was on display. The slut decided to forego his neckerchief at a council meeting? _How_ was he supposed to pay attention-?

Neither of them would be so angry if _someone_ hadn’t decided to be romantic, and irresponsible, and wax poetic about the _luxuries_ of _sensuality_ and whatever nonsense had put his _dick_ on a soapbox-

They’d only been married for two months.

“Arrest me then, _my lord_.” The grand populace of Camelot had by now determined that whenever Merlin said ‘my lord’, he surely meant it in the most derogatory and insulting manner one could possibly imbue a title, and so had Arthur. Miraculously, it appeared even the dullest of men could learn.

Our king flushed red, shaking as if preparing to launch himself across the table. Once he got to Merlin? Well, a king doesn’t give up his battle tactics.

Sir Gwaine whistled low, seated haphazardly on a chair, leaned back so as to rest his weight on a pillar. This was his favourite part of these meetings.

“That’s kinky,” he commented, helpfully. It was, decidedly, kinky, given Arthur’s mind had immediately gone to the gutter. Some of the older council members turned to the knight, their mouths agape.

Sir Leon, in all his ancient glory, was one of them. He turned immediately back to the royal couple.

“Everyone, please,” he held out his open hands, “Can we let Lord Ermit continue with the tax accounts?”

Arthur and Merlin looked to the knight; lips tight. They shared a glare before taking their respective seats. They were pointedly not looking at each other, but one would note that they were holding hands underneath the table.

It was Gideon, who would note that. His baby face stood out at the table, far too young a lad to be the Royal Scribe- hence why he was in training.

Gideon knew too much to be left out of the council meetings. It had only taken a suggestive eyebrow, on behalf of Gaius and Leon who had spent far too much time with the adolescent, and a head tilt to some very important manuscripts. They contained some rather embarrassing anecdotes from the young king, rambling on about his husband. There were a few too many drunken declarations of love and worship from before they got married which should never see the light. Goddess forbid that Merlin’s head grow any bigger. Ever since his shoulders came in, and his hair grew a little longer, and he started wearing those luxurious robes Arthur asked him to- well, it was hard to look away.

Apparently, all of Camelot agreed, because Arthur kept running into servants and stable hands and visiting nobility and Gwaine with their goo-goo eyes and wandering hands. But Arthur wouldn’t dare admit he was possessive, nor that he too fell prey to the blue of his eyes or the sound of his laugh. Merlin would laugh in his face, call him a prat, disappear mysteriously for a few hours, come back dishevelled and bloody holding a bouquet of flowers- and then they would very busy for the rest of evening, diplomatic stuff. Not something for Gideon to understand.

Even though Gideon was fifteen winters now, and he knew well what ‘diplomatic stuff’ was. Or so he thought. Unfortunately, sex education hadn’t yet been invented so all he knew was whatever the kitchen maids had told him while his mother was away. Also, given that they lived in a deeply misogynistic societal system, the kitchen maids were mostly cis females who were not familiar with the nuances of gay sex.

It wasn’t as if Arthur and Merlin knew at first either. A manual didn’t show up on their bedside table when things started getting a little hot and heavy. It had been a long process of trial and error, and trial they did. Hence, the bags under their eyes.

“Of course, Leon, Lord Ermit, please continue.”

* * *

It may seem out of character, but Sir Leon had decided to pick up the scribe gig. Just occasionally, as Gideon’s understudy.

“I only go to the council meetings to watch Merlin and Arthur shit talk each other in front of Old Geoffrey.” Sir Gwaine was leaning against the stone wall, a half-eaten apple in his hand, a chunk of it in between his teeth, causing his words to come out with a bit of a lisp. Leon squinted at him.

“…You’re not part of the council?” He really was terrible at writing things down. He just rather enjoyed an excuse for the inquisition.

Sir Percival looked sideways at Sir Gwaine. Gideon rolled his eyes, bent over the parchment, his elbows aching from the contact with the floor.

Gwaine pursed his lips thoughtfully, “Oh, no, I am. I just didn’t show up before.”

Percival perked up, “he would always fall asleep.”

Gwaine turned to him nodding, “I would always fall asleep.”

Gideon dutifully wrote that down, his tongue peeking out of his mouth in concentration.

* * *

They were getting ready to go riding. It was a slow morning, and Arthur and Merlin had felt a little bored this past week. Sitting on thrones, eating, sleeping, court, more sleeping, was getting old. They had been reminiscing on their golden days, of running around and going on Very Important Quests.

“You know I saved your life on most of those quests?”

“Shut up, _my lord_.”

Merlin gasped, mockingly. “Why, _sire_. I ought to have you thrown in the stocks for that.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You can’t throw the king in the stocks.”

“I bet you I could get the knights to help me.”

“Oh, now you need the knight’s help? I thought you were an all-powerful wizard.”

“I’m a warlock.”

“ _I’m a warlock_ , yes, Merlin, you’ve mentioned a few times.”

“Your majesties, please leave Camelot.” Leon was shuffling awkwardly by their horses. If he waited for them to shut up, he would’ve been there all day. It was an unspoken law that Sir Leon had the right to interrupt their discourse. Others had attempted at times- only to receive the back end of a barking king, for how could you not see they were discussing important diplomatic matters?

“You called Merlin an idiot and he rolled his eyes and told you ‘it was unfortunate you weren’t a looker because you weren’t smart either’-”

Diplomatic matters.

Arthur scoffed, “yes, yes, we’re leaving.”

Camelot could use a break.

* * *

“Leon, I had a question about the knights?”

Gideon was fiddling with his quill. It had been some time now that the question had been pressing him. He was afraid to approach it, convinced he would unravel the thin fabric of confidence that made the Knight of the Round Table more action than action figure- unaware of the possible repercussions.

Sir Leon had prepared himself for this moment. “I was waiting for you to show interest! I have so much advice, I was really considering writing a book-”

His eyes were sparkling. His curls shook gently with his hand movements. It was easy to fool oneself into thinking Leon a mature, well rounded, _cute_ man of refinement.

“Why doesn’t Sir Percival wear sleeves?”

“-but I ha- wait, what?”

The air was tense, the friction between their stares enough to light a fuse. Gideon could hear static in his ears.

Leon’s eyes face crumpled in confusion. “What, what do you mean?”

“Percival doesn’t ever wear sleeves. Isn’t that dangerous? Not even in the winter… he does it just to show off his arms.” He whispered; afraid someone would overhear.

Leon’s eyebrow twitched. He recomposed himself.

“…Um…”

The door burst open, nearly falling off its hinges. A flustered Sir Gwaine appeared, his nipple just peeking through the billowy shirt he wore, his whole tiddy almost out. He appeared to be breathing hard. He pointed a finger at Gideon.

“Don’t-” he choked up, “don’t ruin this for me!”

George, a servant who had literally no reason to be in the knights’ quarters, but whose presence went unquestioned, popped in from behind. “Is everything alright, my lords?”

“Everything’s fine. I was just leaving.” Gideon stood shakily, regretting his life decisions.

Gwaine flipped his hair across his face, resting a palm on his face. He appeared to have gone through a stressful ordeal.

* * *

One would think marrying into royalty guaranteed some level of decorum- but this was _Mer_ lin we’re talking about here. He barged into Gaius’ quarters, dark robe trailing behind him dramatically.

He was visibly angry, face twitching, cheeks flushed. His fists clenched and unclenched. His coronet lay skewed on his ruffled head of hair.

“What’s wrong?” Gaius hardly paused in his work to glance up and inquire.

“It’s Arthur.” Spittle flew from his mouth.

Gaius’ didn’t flinch. His face was expressionless, if at least clearly disinterested. “Wow, I am so surprised.”

* * *

“Fuck you, Arthur!”

“I sure hope you do!”

“Your majesties… please… we’re discussing crops?…”

* * *

It would not be common knowledge for many years, many centuries, the intricacies of relativity. If one would ask, the discovery would not at all come as a surprise, for the seconds in a quiet meeting stretched long beyond the normal rhythm of time. If one stood just still enough, it was as if time came to a standstill.

King Arthur was resting his chin in his palm, attempting to look interested. In truth, he had forgotten what they were talking about in the first place, and now he was envisioning Lord Gifford slowly morph into a rat. Whatever decision they would come up with would be led by the other members of the court.

Unfortunately, the other members of the court were also struggling to stay awake. Leon almost passed for interested, but Elyan and Percival were discreetly playing chopsticks underneath the table, Lancelot was squinting very hard, determined not to let his eyes close. Guinevere and Lady Morgana were talking via written messages on each others arms. Gwaine’s head was thrown back, his mouth wide open, snoring loudly. The only reason Merlin was still awake was because Arthur was slowly moving his hand up his thigh.

The doors burst open. A young knight ran in, waving a parchment around. “Your majesty, there’s bandits-”

Arthur stood up quickly, his face set in stoic determination. “We’ll go immediately.”

Merlin stood, solemnly nodding. “Elyan, wake up Gwaine. We’re going on a field trip.”

Sir Elyan crouched low to whisper in Gwaine’s ear, making a show of moving his hair out of the way. “…there’s ba-”

He shot up in his seat, nearly knocking Elyan back. “We’re throwing hands? Finally.”

Sir Leon walked over to the kings. “Who shall I send, sire?”

Arthur rubbed his hands together. “…I think just to be on the safe side, all of us.”

The knight nodded seriously and started rounding up the boys.

Gideon was watching, his mouth open, his face contorted in confusion. “Why…why are you sending so many knights out, your best knights, and you guys… for some bandits? What about the meeting?”

Arthur puffed up his chest, his back straight and posture regal. “Young man, if you question my judgement one more time, you can say goodbye to extra honey buns after dinner!”

This was not actually true. Arthur would sooner throw himself off a bridge than become his father, so he rather appreciated Gideon unafraid to question his judgement. But there were some diplomatic matters that he couldn’t appreciate yet. Maybe in time.

There would also _definitely_ be extra honey buns after dinner, but that was because the king had a sweet tooth.

“What? What did I say?” Gideon looked back and forth between the king and his husband. Merlin shook his head but reached over to ruffle his hair.

“We’ll be back soon.” He turned to his husband, “Ready, sire?”

Arthur smiled sweetly; eyes soft, as he gazed upon the love of his life. His expression morphed into a haughtier grin; an eyebrow cocked.

“After you, _my lord_.”

And they lived happily ever after.


End file.
